NaBloPoMo: My Four-Ef'd-up-Things Friday

1. Show me the money the postmark:  Purchases at Costco qualified me for a mail-in rebate. I saved my receipt, intended to mail it. I waited, knowing I'd shop there again and have MORE receipts - bigger rebate. 

Halloween, I woke up:  Does that Costco thing need to be postmarked today?" Then I lost my focus. I thought about it the next day.  

It needed to be postmarked 10/31st. I'm on a two year streak of Not mailing my receipt. Will I break the streak next year? Stay tuned. 

2. This was key:  Thurs. morning, I had to drive Kay to school. 

Curly usually drives her, but forget to tell me that she had an early morning meeting Thursday. I was scrambling. I loaded a tot and off we went - racing to be back before other tots arrived. The garage keypad broke last year, maybe two years ago. 

I ordered a new one. Coach waited a year and then put it up. But - it didn't work, or he couldn't find it? He put the original one back up, and declared:  Look, it works. 

Me:  It works in the warm weather, wait till winter. 

Does our house need dark gray garage
 doors, or should we stick with white?

Guess what? It's cold, so not working.

Curly's opener hasn't been working, so she put GW's opener in her car.

I unlocked the minivan on the driveway before I drove Kay to school, so when I got back I could use the minivan's built in opener. When I got back, I realized I'd clicked the LOCK button. The minivan key fob was in the house. 

My heart stopped. Was I locked out?

The black streak down
 the door - can't be good.

I ran to the back door. Unlocked - THANK GOODNESS.

I'm now shopping for new garage doors, openers (our current one sounds like it might dislodge and land on someone's head), and a smart door opener. Merry Christmas to us. 

Care to vote on a door color? A few years ago we got new dark grey siding. The house is red brick. The windows:  trimmed in white. The house used to be white. The garage door is still white. Do we get a garage door to match the siding, or do we stick with a white garage door to match the trim? 

3.  Ef . . . fruit snacks!:  I went to Costco Tuesday night. I got an email Wednesday night, reminding me that I signed up to drop off 90 fruit snacks for the grade school's pizza day fundraiser. "#%$@*&^(&$#@" 

Thursday after babysitting, I ran back to Costco. 

4. Unintentionally hoarding emails:  Where was I when everyone learned about deleting emails? I never knew it was necessary. Maybe I thought they'd just gradually disappear. I rarely delete emails. I have 47k emails, give or take several thousand. If you know how to delete all unread (or some category) from a yahoo account - please advise. 

*****

Tell me your email managing techniques and why you think I'm so clueless. Do you have windows in your garage doors? Do you like them? Do you have smart locks - are they smarter than you? Manage to lock yourself our of your home? Between email, snail mailing receipts, and nonworking keypads, do you wonder if the Shenanigans have been trapped in a time warp? 

NaBloPoMo: A 60th Anniversary love story

 Today is my parents' 60th anniversary. My siblings, our spouses, and I  celebrated at a lunch in a small private room of a nice restaurant on Sunday. 

Dad announced:  I'm gonna tell you how we met. 

Not sure I've heard the story in its entirety. Nana sat across the table from him, beaming the whole time and nodding. She has Alzheimer's. She still knows us, might draw a blank on a name. While I suspect that she's forgotten some details, she fakes things fairly well. She seems to have moments of clarity. Hey - don't we all. 

Dad:  A guy named Mick (Nana's brother) used to tease me in the caddy shack while we were waiting for a loop. He could hold the basketball (palm it) with one hand. He'd hold it really high and tell me to try to grab it. He thought it was funny. 

One day he told me, 'Hey, JR, my sister's in the pool'

Coach:  Hang on, is this story PG? 

Grinning, Dad nodded.

Dad:  So I walked over to the pool. I saw her, but I couldn't tell much. (I think he was introduced to her at some point, my SIL filmed his retelling, so I'll have to refer back at some point). She came to Notre Dame (where dad was a student) with her father for a football game. Her brother was an ND student too. I saw them and invited them up to see my room. 

* the crowed grew a little restless. Some of the men in my family were motioning a Hell to the no, would I allow my daughter up in some guy's room. Sign of the times though, JR invited Nana and her dad. 

Dad:  That summer, I asked her out. It was August. I don't think she liked me much. My hay fever was so bad, I was blowing my nose and itching my eyes. 

* When we were kids, Nana used to tell us that Dad took his glasses off when they were dating, a signal that he was about to kiss her. This made us moan. The eye itching prompted him to remove his glasses - it all adds up. How convenient.

Dad:  She told me that she was going into the convent. She wanted to become a nun. I finished college. Served in the army for two years, and when I was discharged, I wanted to get married. 

I took a polish girl to a Notre Dame game. She was a really nice girl. We were eating at the popular spot near campus, Frankie's. Someone behind me says, Hi JR. I turned around and it was Nana. 

I said, "I thought you were in the convent." 

She said, "They let us out on weekends." She was joking - she'd left the convent. 

The next day, I called her up. We started dating, and then we got married.

*****

My bother:  And that polish girl still wanders from tailgate to tailgate, looking for JR - the one that got away.

*****

It never occurred to me, but I sort of crossed paths with Coach through my brother too. Coach's fam lived down the street. Coach and my brothers caddied together. We started dating after I graduated college. At our wedding, my brother, Pat's toast started like this:  I always thought Coach was my friend, I didn't realize he was just using me to get to my sister.

NaBloPoMo: So this sucked

I generally like to keep things light, but last night went off the rails.

A few weeks ago, Kay  13 yrs (youngest daughter - just adopted she and her sister Rae 14 yrs in September - they've been with us for 2.5 yrs) mentioned in family therapy that she's not thrilled that Rae and Kay's bestie 'Flynn' exchange long letters. Coach and I were unaware this was a thing. Rae was not in this session. 

Later, Me to Rae:  Hey, I'm glad you and Flynn get along, but the letters are making Kay uncomfortable. How about you chat with Flynn when you see her and stop with the 5 page letters?

Rae (eyeroll):  Our letters aren't 5 pages, but whatever. 

Rae steers clear of trouble pretty consistently. The early days/year with her - nothing short of nightmarish, but aside from a few recent bumps, she's made great progress. 

Kay's another story. She lies and sneaks, making it tough to connect with her. The lack of connection is hard. Really hard. 

Anyway, it's pretty clear that Rae likes to hold herself up as 'I'm not getting into trouble like you are'. She enjoys the 'I've made progress' role.

Tuesday, I found the stash of letters Flynn wrote Rae. (*In order to keep them safe, we look through their room on occasion. They know this. Our family therapist supports this. We long for the day when this won't be necessary. Trust me - they've given us reason to go this route). The letters aren't 5 pages, they're 4. Lots of drama from school and talk about boys, etc. I can't read what Rae sent to Flynn, but one of the responses from Flynn included a red flag, like we got the idea of what Rae had said to her and it was concerning. A nothing-to-mess-around-with-red-flag.  

Rae is insecure, but she plays if off as the opposite, so having an 8th grader write her and tell her how amazing she is gives her a boost. "Kay's my best friend but you're like a sister to me". *The 'you're amazing' bits were not the concerning parts. 

We spoke to Rae about the letters and our concern. She got dysregulated. We gave her the option to pause. We'd talk later. Arms were crossed, words were said. "None of your business." etc. She yelled at Kay a ton, blaming her for bringing up the letters at therapy in the first place. "I let her hang out with my friends," ~ yeah, she's not writing them letters. 

We explained (and it was very clear) that this was a safety concern and as her parents we need to keep her safe. "It was a long time ago and I didn't even tell Flynn about it -she found out . . ." 

We again pointed out that her attitude needed to be toned down and that it would be best if she took a break and regroup. 

I went to the closet to get my coat, so I could go to Costco. Rae stormed up to her room, and when she passed the hall closet she pushed the door hard - knocking me into the closet.

Hey now! Uncool. 

I left for Costco and Rae came downstairs and went outside. 

I texted Coach from Costco:  Did she come back?

Coach:  Yeah - are you gonna come back . . . ever?

Our agenda that night included flu shots. Coach agreed to meet me at the drug store. I cringed, wondering if he'd have a tough time corralling a certain teenage girl. 

I started the paperwork with the help of our amazing pharmacist, George. We've known him for years, OK, I've known him for years. Much like the Target experience, I'm not sure Coach has frequented Osco Drug enough to know George. Before Coach arrived, I told George one of the newbies had given us hell, so if he wanted to administer a few extra shots, that'd be fine. 

Coach went back first. The shot lady closed the door. A minute later, Coach screamed. Coach said he got the shot lady's permission to scream beforehand, as he wanted to freak out our teen girls who were waiting. I'm telling you - he's not sure about return policies at national branches, but he's got a humorous side. 

Coach, Curly, and Kay drove home and I got to grab a few things at the store with Rae after our shots. I was rushing, because Katlyn, fam therapist, agreed to call us at 8:45 after her last client. 

I wish I'd thought to take a photo
 from inside my messy closet, but
 Coach is sleeping as I type this -
 way past my bedtime. I've just
 got this Whole Foods shot.

Whole Foods called to say my order was ready. Coach, who's clinic is next to WholeFoods, was supposed to pick that up during the day, but I'd never gotten the 'it's ready message'. I told them he'd come the next day, but they said the order would be cancelled if I didn't come before 9. Mother of Pearl. The low sugar chocolate chips were nothing emergent, but I drove to pick it up with my friend in the backseat. Silence, save Fleetwood Mac's Landslide on the radio. Thank you radio for providing the soundtrack to tonight's drama.  

Coach and I took Kaylyn's call in my walk-in closet. She helped us sort out which things were punishable and what fell in the 'need to keep you safe' category, and gave us a few suggestions. 

We invited Rae into the study to chat. It didn't go well. "I'll be fine at school," she said. "This is what I get like when I'm mad. I act different when I'm at school." 

Me:  Well, think about that, because you're sitting here with two people who love you. We're not some Joe Shmoo walking around the school halls.

We decided we weren't sure she could be trusted to be in control while at school. So we're keeping her home - maybe Coach can drive her midday, if she's able to have a discussion that shows her grasp of the situation. (her ride to school had been sick two days running - the daycare drop off at my house makes it really hard to get her to school. He texted later, saying he was still sick and honestly, not having to drive her is a godsend). 

We're not sure this was the right move, but when she was fired up and horrible early on - we said Not sure school tomorrow makes sense for you. Not that our bio kids came with instructions, but dang - these two sure didn't come with a manual and we're muddling along as best we can. 

It's nights like this that I wonder. What are we doing? Will our life always be full of turmoil? 

Me (as Coach and I were leaving the closet):  What were we thinking - we could've bought a second home. We could've gone on nice vacations. Is life always gonna feel so difficult?

Coach:  Well, I felt comfortable in your closet. We could just hang out in here more often. 

*****

Back to shorter posts tomorrow. Thanks for letting me vent. Ever have the radio play the perfect song for a tense car ride?

NaBloPoMo: where does the (MY) time go?

Feeling overwhelmed - thinking of a million posts I could share. How about where my time goes  . . . (this is a supposed to be an example of how I can get pulled in different directions - there are loads of things I intentionally spend time on).

I shuffled Reg's phone call out of this post and lumped it with Monday's funny things.

*****

1. Friday self report grades:  Curly's application to U of I was incomplete until she self reported her grades. Silly. Other colleges work off the transcript. I helped her input her grades to complete her application.

*****

2. Thursday text from my sister, Marie:  Can you cut Mom's hair before the anniversary lunch on Sunday? (My parents' 60th anniversary is this week and we celebrated Sunday). Despite zero training, I cut Nana's hair Saturday. I'd hoped to do it Friday, but ran out of time. 

*****

3. Tank and Coach's haircuts:  On Saturday Tank and Ed came home from the city to

Welcome to my studio.

celebrate Coach's bday a week early. Next weekend everyone was busy. Guess who needed haircuts? Tank and Coach. Ed had just gotten one. It was chilly (less messy to cut outside), but manageable. 

*****

4. Friday social worker, Morgan:  The girls' social worker returned my call Friday. I needed the girls' SSNs for our insurance enrollment. Morgan's great. Now that the adoption is finalized, she doesn't check in/have monthly visits.  I grabbed a few laundry baskets and sorted them while we chatted.

 

*****

5. Thursday read 'Holes' with Kay:  We started this book at the end of the summer, but during school  - harder to carve out time. I read to her for 30 min. before . . . 

******

6. I picked up Rae:  I drove  15 min to Rae's high school Thursday night, where she watched a play.  Coach had dropped her off. 

*****

7.  Wednesday night Ed called:  Ed's always busy, so I enjoyed catching up with him. The minute I hung up, the phone rang . . .

*****

8. Tank called: Hilarious, because they live across the street from each other. He'd played his wooden flute in a session (Irish music in a pub) that night. He'd had a few beers, and shared an animated story about a huge rat that he crossed paths with.  

*****

9. Mini texted me Monday morning:  Can you ship me my winter coat? She didn't come home for fall break- went to TN. I've been to ND multiple times this fall. I get it - it's hard to think about winter when the weather is mild. I'm contemplating driving there Friday for lunch, etc. - but I could use a day off to get stuff done. 

*****

My arms are long, and my aim
 isn't bad - my new angle is
 to take a pic of us from above.
Book page:  "Big bear, little chair.
Big chair, little bear." Never gets old.
Can you count all the littles in the pic? 

9.  Resume service:  For months I helped Lad with his resume and cover letters, and networking suggestions for his job search. 

*****

Coach moaned recently about my time in the study, pointing out that I'd already been at my computer for 'so long'. He doesn't get that much of 'my computer time' is spent signing field trip forms, communicating with multiple therapists and teachers, paying bills, and uploading tot/baby photos (exhibit A to the right) to my FB group for my babysitting families. 

Do you feel like there's never enough time in the day?

NaBloPoMo: Monday, funny day: 3 laughs

Top 3 funny things lately (in no particular order):

1. Call from Reg:  "I can't find my wallet." 

Reg:  I'm checking the tile (best Christmas gifts for this guy*), but it's acting like it's under my feet. I don't get it. 

* Our youngest son, a freshman at Creighton who should be a sophomore, took a gap year. Epilepsy caused him to lose 95% of his verbal memory. 

Me (closing my eyes, taking a deep breath):  OK, where did you last have it? 

Reg:  In my room! Mom, my phone is telling me that it's under my feet. How is that possible? I've looked EVERYWHERE.

Me:  OK, I can't help you. Keep looking. 

Click, he hung up frustrated, but I couldn't help.

After lunch, I texted him:  Do you think your friends could've removed the tile sensor thingie and pranked you?

Reg texted back:  Yeah. They did.

2.  Coach the Jokester:  Coach had a new patient in mid September. The patient asked him how many kids he had. 

Coach:  Well, if you'd have asked me last week, I would've said 6, but you're asking today . . . the answer is 8.

Patient:  What? You're wife just had twins and you're at work?

Coach:  No. We didn't just have twins.

Patient looked confused. 

Here's where I need to point out that Coach has a young face - young enough to be married to a woman who is young enough to still give birth to twins. When we were in high school, my family often sat behind his family at church. For a long time, I thought his dad was one of his brothers. I say this, because - I knew the young-genes look that I was marrying into. And yet, here we are - me looking ancient and him looking like a pup. 

We also bought these at Home Depot.
 Cinderblocks. Good to have options.
Also returnable in another state.

Finally, Coach told the patient that we'd just adopted two kids (who'd lived with us for 2.5 years) and it was finalized the week before. 

3.  Target Returns:  When Coach and I drove Mini back to college in August, we did a Target run, searching for furniture lifts to raise her bed up to help with storage.

I suggested we buy more than we thought we'd need. They were stackable. Easier to return the ones we didn't need later than going back to Target in the midst of a move-in.

I don't think I have any photos of the
 Target lifts that ended up working.
The issue was they had too much
furniture in her room, we hoisted the
 bed up, turned one of the wardrobes
 on its side and suck it
under there. It's a tiny single. 

Coach:  I wanna get on the road. I don't wanna come back to Target to return any extras. 

Me (wearing a puzzled expression until it clicked . . . my husband doesn't always know how the world works. Imagine me saying these next words slowly and deliberately):  We don't have to return it to this Target. We can return it to the Target by our home. 

Friends, he did not know that was allowed. 

Ah, men. Can I get an amen? 

*****

Anything funny happen in your world lately?

NaBloPoMo: flashing back to a near-gate mishap, Reg's adulting, age 9

Before boarding for Tampa, I bolted to the bathroom once more. They'd just invited the A group to board, and I wasn't until C. Plenty of time, right? 

Panic mode:  While in the bathroom, I imagined that they'd magically boarded hundreds of people in under 2 minutes. After waiting hours for my flight (more on this later) - what if I missed it? 

The mind, it's a wonderful thing. Right? 

This situation reminded me of a time I was traveling with 9 year old Reg. We'd just sprinted to make a connecting flight at JFK. (from Montreal to DC). I left him at the gate with my roller bag. I HAD to go to the bathroom. This was about a year shy of me being diagnosed with Celiac, so fill in the blanks as needed. 

Reg is in the center - orange tie. Not at
world champs, this is years earlier.

Me:  If they call us to board, tell them my mom'll be right back. 

Minutes later, I raced out of the bathroom, scanning the area where I'd left Reg. He wasn't there. Then I spotted him with the roller bag, handing the boarding pass to the attendant. Her face. Eyes bugging out. Forehead wrinkled. Asking, Who are you traveling with?  Just then, I popped over, waving - Hi. I was in the restroom. Sorry. 

The scene reminded me of those commercials featuring children dressed as adults, speaking in big words. 

Reg had been compelled to Irish dance in Montreal for world championships. He was a 'gent' on a ceili team. They could stick a girl in the 'gent' position, but teams look more polished if the couples consist of actual males paired with the 'lady'.. 

Fun fact, I was always a gent when I Irish danced as a kid, because TALL. 'Lady' position dancers need to fit under raised-arm arches, so height of the gents, or in my case a fake gent, matters.

Reg (not at worlds) bringing
 home some bling. With
 a cracker in his mouth.
 Probably 5 years old. 

I explained to the dance teachers that our family was traveling for spring break. We planned to tour colleges and visit DC, so we couldn't swing Montreal. 

The school threatened to kick us out if I didn't take him to the competition. We'd just transferred from another school because of ass hole tactics that I couldn't tolerate. Our new school knew that they had us between a stage floor and a hard shoe. Of course they'd played nice when we were looking to change schools. I had two boy dancers (a rare commodity), and two excellent girl dancers. They were practically drooling. 

Transferring is frowned upon, so to deter dancers from jumping ship - transfer kids must skip competition for 6 months. Skipping competition limits a dancer from advancing or from qualifying for a major, like world championships. 

*****

When my kids want to tick me off, they call me 'Dance Mom.' We had many fun Irish dancing adventures. I don't miss them. Do you know anyone who Irish danced or competed in something with bossy rules? Does your mind play 'panic' tricks on you?

NaBloPoMo: More details . . . Lad and Ed, bonus photos

"Excuse me, no photos right now.
 My brother's not feeling great."

Lad - our oldest. He's 27, which makes me old as dirt. 

He was spread thin in college ('20), juggling D1 water polo and academics. Skipping his ADD meds complicated things. When covid ended school, he hadn't considered a career. 

He lived at home for 2 years. Some of that time was very challenging. We got through it. He's impulsive, buying an Irish Setter puppy without asking. In 2023 we showed him the door, telling him to take his dog too. 

Believe it or not, the puppy wasn't our biggest difficulty. Even though 1.  we've never had a dog. 2.  I'm allergic.  and 3.  I run an in-home daycare. 

Lad bought a house in a nearby suburb in '23, initially hiding it from us. Don't get me started. He's a kid, an adult who must make mistakes to learn.*sigh* He also bought another dog. 

Daddy's work. In pajamas. 

He sold cars for 5 years. After a long search, he landed a sales position last month. 

On one of his first days (selling fire safety equipment to businesses), he called a place regarding their new building. His new boss looked over his proposal. Last week the place accepted his bid. What a boost to his self confidence. 

I thought he was selling fire extinguishers, but they do alarm systems and sprinkler systems too. #cluelessmom who's thrilled to see him excited about this role. 

He's all heart with a good sense of humor, incredibly loyal to his family. He's showing signs of growing up.

Ed - 2nd son. In 2000, Toddler Lad told everyone we were going to name the baby '2' - I think because he'd just turned 2, not because Ed was the 2nd baby. 

At the hospital, the anesthesiologist introduced himself:  Hi, I'm Dr. Tu. (spelling? It was pronounced 'Two'). We died laughing. 

Ed turned 25 last month. His nickname:  Eddie Haskell from 'Leave it to Beaver'. Translation:  a brown-noser who stirs up trouble when unsupervised. 

When I ran a garage sale for our school he was helping unload cars. A 4th grade teacher showed up to help. 

Ed:  Hi, Mrs. M. I hope I'm in your class this year. Are you having a wonderful summer? 

I about fell over. Meanwhile, he got into his share of mischief. 

Lad gets his name because
he's always been
 into Irish music. 

Ed lives downtown where most of his college friends live. He works as an accountant in the city. He's hardworking, has a serious girlfriend, is accountable and self aware. I wasn't ready when he decided to move out. 

Lad plays the Irish drum, called a bodhrán. Ed played concertina and piano, and was an outstanding Irish dancing. Something he'd like to forget now. Ed's kilt, which had been 'adjusted' by too many well-intentioned mothers, once came unpinned and flapped open during a ceili (team) competition. 

Ed, age 10-ish, knocked Lad's front adult teeth out while spinning around playing in the snow with a shovel. 

*****

They're all different. Too young to get the 'Leave It to Beaver' reference? Ever been to a water polo game?